


Bathed In Light

by lesbomancy



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-28 02:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12595764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbomancy/pseuds/lesbomancy
Summary: The rebirth of my Titan, Lex Sahan, after her Ghost spends a few centuries looking for her.





	Bathed In Light

_This won't do, this won't do at all..._  
  
Another day, another subcycle. It had grown easy to convert the Traveler's time units into the Old Gregorian calendar that so many relics of the Golden Age used. She honestly enjoyed using them because it wasn't as low as a number that the Traveler's subcycles would've been... it made things direr. Dramatic. The theatrics kept her mind busy as she surveyed the Earth for her Guardian. Her purpose. Her friend. In the hundreds of years since her creation, she had two and a half thousand different unique variations with unique backstories to what her Guardian would be like. Each skeleton she scanned just added another variation or a tweak to the stories she'd already created.  
  
It wasn't very healthy. She knew it made her eccentric, a small floating robot often left talking to itself and running thought processes that seemed neurotic at best, paranoid at worst. A stranger she had come across nineteen days, four months, and eighty-two years ago attributed it to the chunk of her shell that was missing. It was a forget-me-not from a particularly angry Warlord... those nasty, ugly people who the Iron Lords did a bang-up job disposing of. Even if their Ghosts had to suffer, at least the Light in the survivors was able to be used towards good.  
  
Her scarred shell turned and looked past the horizon, seeing only the tip of the Traveler's form. The sigh she let out served no function but to ease the tension that had been building up. Maybe tomorrow she'd find her Guardian! Traveling the dry, tall grass of southern Africa she suddenly had variation two thousand and ONE on her potential Guardian. She was always excited when she thought of an Exo -- they'd be alike in a way, and the lights inside their jaws always seemed so pretty.  
  
Coming over a hill, she paused in place and took in a confusing image before her. A mass graveyard.  
  
 _Oh no, all these poor people..._  
  
If she had a heart, it would've lept out of her chest. Well, if she  _had_  a chest. She hated the smaller skeletons, she hated that they even existed at all to begin with. She half-turned, seeing an old shipping yard in the distance that she'd much rather pour through for her Guardian, sliding between sheet metal, slipping into rust-coated containers of goods that she'd be able to mark as something for her Guardian to bring to the Last City, maybe even seeing how fast she could go between the chain link fences...  
  
Her little blue eye glanced back at the ditch, then the village beyond it. All of the buildings and roads still mostly stood, covered in patches by grass that would eclipse even Shaxx himself standing up straight. As if he stood any other way than like a board of muscle and pride. She emulated a deep breath before slowly hovering before the grave. A hundred poor, lost souls... families, huddled together and fossilized in their final moments of terror. She scanned each one, the urge to run away increasing with each. Nobody. Just death. That thing she hated. A lot.  
  
Even with the urge to vomit - as if she could've - she began scanning the entire village, rooting out its tale. Its story. Another one for her Guardian, one about-...  
  
She stopped suddenly as she came upon an old skeleton sitting in the armor common of the old Warlords, the shattered shell of a Ghost sitting next to it. They were pinned against the wall with a broken edge of a sword, the blade and armor keeping the sun-bleached bones in place. With everything else she found, she was certain that this Warlord was punishing the village, attempting to cleanse it. Those that would become the Vanguard, true Guardians, simply arrived too late.  
  
 _Or maybe not? This is the same type of blade as the village's guards in the grave._  
  
Curious, she drew the blade's trajectory and found a pile of three corpses half-buried in the sand, covered by time itself. The shattered Ghost on the concrete was scorched by gunfire from one of the bodies, the muzzle of the gun still barely sticking out next to a splintered femur. The poor soul had half their body disintegrated by the Warlord for that, she could tell that most of the wounds inflicted with Void powers were made so that it hurt as much as possible before death.  
  
Her eye drew to the wielder of the blade, the shattered half of it still sticking out of the sand. They sagged against the adjacent building with a hole in their torso so big that the death had to be instantaneous. The scorch marks on the bones matched that of the other skeleton, though the bits of clothing still clinging to the bones indicated it was done at point-blank range. The clothing and armor all matched with those of the armored skeletons in the grave she had scanned earlier.  
  
 _They killed their own Warlord themselves and... died for it? At least they stopped him from taking any other lives. I wonder if anyone was able to avoid execution after their pyrrhic victory._  
  
Yet the empty village around them was abandoned. Likely untouched since the failed uprising. Scanning the sword-wielder, all thoughts of recording history of the small village suddenly ceased. Her processes hitched and she backed up, gasping loudly as her rear portion began spinning like a busy top.  
  
 _It can't-... it can! Oh my! Oh my! OH MY! Oh my! My, my, my! It's my Guardian! It's them! It's THEM! Finally! I found them, I found them! I did it! I DID it!_  
  
She got as low as she could to the bones, her pupil-like lense turning into a very small dot. What would she have them wear? Which variation she invented would they be most like? It was a woman, though she was shorter than anticipated with a wider build than most in the area. She realized that her shell was spinning around her core in excitement and quickly stopped it.  
  
 _Calm down. Calm down. You can't actually cry from excitement. Focus... and... let's meet our Guardian._  
  
Her shell pulled apart, energy filling the gaps between pieces as she became an orb much larger than she normally was. It felt natural, instinctive, and yet exciting and new at the same time. In a few moments, she had materialized her Guardian back to life. Lex was dressed head-to-toe in what Ghost decided was a 'modest yet tasteful' wartime ensemble. A brown, armored jumpsuit. The disoriented woman swayed in place, her head pointed to the ground. Ghost had no idea what to say. She thought about this moment for so long and now that it was here... now that  _she_  was here, standing right before her, it was almost too much to take in. Ghost's voice was meek, anxious, almost as if she was worried she'd be troubling her newly awakened Guardian that had Ghost thrumming with excitement to her core.  
  
 _"Excuse me, Guardian... Guardian. Hello! Can you hear me?"_  
  
Lex nodded, flexing her hands. Every movement brought the Awoken a new series of crackles and pops from every stiff joint. Her head was pounding and she felt ready to tear her helmet off and hyperventilate.  
  
 _This is amazing! You're amazing! You're alive, you're alive! I've been looking for you for SO LONG and now you're here and I can talk to you and you can talk to me!_  
  
The Awoken tried to speak and instead each syllable tripping over her tongue. The end result was her muttering like a drunken toddler, her baby speak morphing into a solid, confused one-word question.  
  
"What?"  
  
 _"I'm your Ghost! You were dead! Dead a really, really long time but I brought you back. Oh, don't worry Guardian I'm going to tell you all about what's going on on our trip to the city. There's a fresh stream nearby and an old shipping yard where we can find you some food and hopefully a working gun. Come on!_  
  
Lex stared at the Ghost as it threatened to fly away like a bat out of Hell, still getting her bearings. She put one foot in front of the other and looked around the old, abandoned village. Before she could look back to see which direction the flying Rubik's cube went in, it was sitting half an inch from her nose.  
  
 _"Come on! We've got so much to talk about and so far to go!"_  
  
Nearly falling back out of surprised, Lex put her palm on the Ghost's shell and pushed it back to a comfortable distance, waggling her hand in the air as if to dismiss the prattling. Something about it felt like a familiar old friend. And it promised her a gun and food - two of her favorite things.She spoke in an Old Indian accent and her tongue felt heavy. Foreign.  
  
 _"M'... coming. I'm coming. Slow down."_ "  
  
But the Ghost had already begun bobbing along in the air, talking excitedly about the features of Lex's suit and how she couldn't wait until they were back at the City. Lex followed along... confused but ultimately trusting of this funny little machine.  
  
After all, it was going to guide her to a city.


End file.
